


Imperfect Tense

by winterisakiller (sparkinside)



Category: British Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston- Fandom
Genre: AU, Betrayal, Cheating, Consequences, F/M, Tom is a coward, cross posted to tumblr, tumblr writing challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2020-05-15 07:01:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19290631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparkinside/pseuds/winterisakiller
Summary: Secrets are powerful things. They shape who we are and how we interact with others and with the world. Tom assumed his secret was safe and his life would remain as it ever was. He was wrong.





	1. PART ONE

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for @mrs-captain-evans writing challenge on tumblr. My prompt was the line: “what did I do wrong?”. This was supposed to be a much shorter piece but alas it sort of ran away with me. Much like Brave Face this story deals with the concept of cheating. Apparently I wasn’t done with this idea just yet. 
> 
> Thanks, again, to [RedKitsune](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedKitsune/pseuds/RedKitsune) who not only encouraged this but was a fantastic support throughout its writing. 

The silence of the room was overwhelming. Tom watched as she sat still as stone, eyes downcast on her hands resting open palmed in her lap. Even with her face carefully neutral and an unnatural coolness radiating from her, Tom couldn’t deny Molly was beautiful. She always had been to him and the years they’d spent together had not changed that fact for him. He fought to ignore the suitcases that sat littered around her; hoping if he ignored them then maybe they would go away even though he knew they would not. 

 

She hadn’t uttered a word in what felt like an age, not since he had walked in the door he realized with a jolt, and, god, he wanted to scream if only just to break the suffocating silence around them. But he hadn’t. Screaming, he undoubtedly knew, would do no good. Not now. Instead, the question that has been plaguing him finally tumbled from his lips. 

 

“What did I do wrong?”

 

Molly flinched at the sound of his voice and the action cut him deeply. They’d fought before and he’d seen her righteous fury and her cool disappointment. But this…This was something new and it sent waves of unease through him. She toyed idly with the ring on her finger. His ring. The soft light from the window played across the deep blue of its center stone; a sapphire, set in a thin silver band. It was simple, beautiful; much like she was. The fact that she hadn’t taken it off had to mean something, didn’t it?

 

After what felt like an age, she raised her head, locking her blue eyes with his own. Emotion swirled in them; far too much and far too quickly for him to pick apart. Uncertainty coursed through him, this was wrong, so very wrong. He didn’t know what to do, what to say, and for the first time since he’d walked into the room, Tom felt a real sliver of fear slither through him. 

 

“Everything,” she whispered. 

 

Her voice had the soft edge that he’d only ever heard when she was well and truly done. It froze his insides and he fought against the reality of what it would mean. For him. For her. For them. Molly had been his rock. The calm, quiet place of refuge and safety he had cherished above all others. She was his world and without warning, without any inkling of understanding on his part, it was seemingly all over. He couldn’t accept it. He wouldn’t. Not when he’d worked so hard to keep this one, bright, wonderful thing in his life. He needed her. 

 

Molly swallowed thickly and it was then he noticed the thick envelope resting beside her. “This came for you.” She held out it out to him and his fingers shook as they closed around it. 

 

A registered letter. 

 

He looked first at it then at her in confusion. She held his gaze and didn’t utter a word. He flipped the envelope over, noting that it had been opened (which in itself hadn’t been surprising, he’d been waiting for a contract to be delivered and had asked her to keep watch for it), and pulled the letter from it. His heart plummeted into his stomach as the words, printed in stark black and white, sank in. 

 

‘ _ Mr. Hiddleston, the enclosed is to inform you… Ms. Heather James… Paternity claim…one year old child Francis Henry James…Please contact at your earliest convenience… _ ’

 

The letter slipped from his numb fingers.  _ Oh god. Oh god. Oh god _ . Bile rose in his throat and he fought against the urge to vomit.  _ This isn’t happening. Please god, this can’t be happening _ . He gripped the edge of the arm chair beside him to keep his balance as the world tilted unnervingly beneath him.

 

Tom hadn’t heard that name in nearly two years, had done his utmost best to forget it. It had been a stupid, careless mistake born of too much drink and a mad notion that his world was spinning out of control. He had been away from home for nearly six months between filming and promoting and auditioning and the distance had started to take its toll. He missed his home. His bed. His family. And god, he missed Molly. Missed her more than he could hope to express. Things hadn’t been easy and the distance was draining for them both.  

 

It had been a grueling day and try as he might he couldn’t seem to reach her; calls, texts, emails, Skype calls, all went unanswered. He struggled not to worry about what it might mean; he trusted Molly, but he needed her and she wasn’t there. He wanted to be angry, felt the frustration and disappointment coursing through him, but pushed those thoughts away. Her own life was hectic enough; she worked long hours in her own right (as a nurse she was no stranger to shift work and impossibly long hours) and had more often than not scarified her time and her life to meld with his. She wasn’t required to be at his beck and call; he never would demand that of her. And he’d known he had absolutely no right to begrudge her of her own life. But still, he felt the lack of contact with her acutely. 

 

Tom hadn’t said no when later Chris, accompanied by a handful others, had come by his room and threw out the idea of drinks and dancing. He’d practically jumped at the chance to get out of that room and out of his head. He needed to relax, to unwind. This would offer him that and he’d ceased it with both hands. He couldn’t stand being in that room a moment longer.

 

It hadn’t taken long for Tom to lose himself in the thrum and energy of the small club. The drinks seemed to flow freely and he’d taken them one after the other. It was heaven; the dancing, the noise, the feel of people moving about in time with the music. It seemed to drown out the loneliness and that was all he’d wanted. 

 

Tom couldn’t remember exactly when he’d registered the hands roaming over his back and shoulders. One minute he was alone on the floor and the next she was pressed against him. Her loose hair tumbled over her shoulders and there was a fire in her eyes that seemed to grab at him, anchoring him where he stood. She was beautiful, even sweating and flushed. And the quiet part of his brain that wondered if she’d look the same spread beneath him, flushed for an entirely  _ different _ reason, grew steadily louder with each passing moment. 

 

And he wanted her, more than he’d wanted anything. That quiet part of his mind grew steadily louder as they danced; her hips pressing into his, lips on his neck, fingers tracing the lines of his back. He missed this, missed the physical contact, the slow and steady promise of another’s body. He’d always been an extremely physical person; needing to touch and be touched. The past few months had been empty. He’d been surrounded by people; coworkers, crew, journalists. He was hardly ever alone, but still he’d felt removed. Home was thousands of miles away as were the people he loved. He was living his dream, getting to do what he loved on a scale so far beyond what he had ever hoped for. But hadn’t counted on just how isolating it could be; how lonely.  

 

Before he could consciously decide to act on his thoughts, she pulled him off the crowded, suffocating heat of the dancefloor and into the dark and cool air of the small, dimly lit bathroom. Her hands were all over him, tangling in his hair, roaming down his back, pulling him tightly against her, and he lost all rationale thought; the need for her, for this overwhelming everything else. His head swam with the combination of lust and drink and need; hands roaming her body, lifting her onto the counter. Her fingers tugged at the belt and fastening of his jeans, pushing them down. Her nails dug into his shoulders, his fingers into the pale skin of her thighs. It was quick and brutal and over before he could process just what had happened. 

 

She smiled at him as she hopped down off the counter, pulling up her panties and smoothing down her dress. She leaned in and kissed him again, murmuring “That was nice,” against his lips. She pulled back enough to grab her small bag from the back of the counter and pulled out a small piece of paper and a pen. Scribbling quickly, she smiled and tucked the paper into his hand. “My name’s Heather. Call me sometime, I’d love another round.” She winked, turned, and disappeared out the door. 

 

His knees felt as though they’d turned to jelly and he stumbled, in a blind panic, towards the toilet. Gripping the white porcelain with all his might he retched and spat, his body jerking with the effort _. Oh God. Oh God. Oh God _ . Another wave of nausea overwhelmed him.  _ Molly _ .  _ Oh Christ, Molly _ . He’d lost her. She would never forgive him this.  _ Oh God. Oh God. Oh God _ . What had he done? What the ever loving _ fuck _ had he done? Guilt and panic washed over him in waves. He fucked up. God, he’d well and truly fucked up. 

 

Tom wasn’t completely sure just how he’d made it back to the hotel; the next thing he was consciously aware of was rushing through the lobby. The elevator took forever arrive, even longer to make it to his floor, and he was certain his knees would give out before he made it into his room. God, what had he done? He’d dropped the key card three times before steadying his hands enough to get it into the lock and then shove the door open. His heart felt as if it were pounding out of his chest as he pushed the door closed, falling back against its cool metal. 

 

The shrill ringing of his phone cut through the silence of the room and he yanked it from his pocket, staring in panicked horror at the screen. Molly’s smiling face stared back at him; a photo he had taken months ago during a quick getaway they’d taken to the Lake District on one of his rare trips back home. It was a picture that he’d felt captured the warmth and quiet affection that he loved so fiercely about her. 

 

Without conscious thought he hit the dismiss button and dropped the phone onto the carpeted floor. He felt the bile rising in his throat once again and he struggled to his feet and into the bathroom, not bothering to turn on the overhead light. He coughed and gagged into the bowl until nothing but bile was left. He took a deep breath and rested his head against the cool porcelain. Once he was sure his breathing was under control, he crawled back into the main living space. 

 

His phone sat silent on the floor. It hadn’t rung again since Molly’s call and he’d been eternally grateful. How could he talk to her, tell her what he’d done, just how badly he’d fucked up? Tears welled in his swollen eyes and he rubbed them away furiously. His head was still swimming and the room around him continued to lurch at an alarming angle. Clutching his head, Tom curled up on the floor and shut his eyes against the returning waves of nausea. 

 

The shrill ring of his phone jerked him once more into wakefulness what felt like moments later. His head was pounding and he had to fight to keep his stomach from emptying itself (though there was nothing left to empty by this point) onto the carpeted floor. He blindingly groped the floor in search of it. His fingers brushed against it, pulling it toward him in trepidation. It was Luke’s number he saw flashing across the screen and for a splint second relief flooded through him. 

 

He hit answer and raised the phone to his ear, ignoring the growing sense of trepidation. “Hello?” His voice was shaking and he knew there was no way Luke would miss that. 

 

“Tom?” Luke’s voice was immediately on edge. “Are you alright?”

 

A ruthless chuckle fell from Tom’s lips involuntarily and he fought to ignore the rip of pain that shot through his head as he did so. “No.” The words came out choked and broken. “Fuck...Luke...I don’t know what to do...I didn’t mean....I don’t know how it happened...I…”

 

“Whoa. Whoa. Slow down, Tom,” his publicist implored. “What’s happened? Did something happen when you went out tonight?”

 

Puzzlement clouded Tom’s mind. “How did you…?” Tom clutched the phone tighter in his shaking hand, fighting off yet another round of nausea as understanding dawned. Oh god, if Luke knew then surely Molly would…

 

“There were photographs posted online of you, Hemsworth, and a few others heading out of the hotel and then a handful of you all entering a club a few hours ago...Tom, what happened? The photos aren’t at all scandalous...” Luke’s voice trailed off, uncertainty and trepidation coloring his usually wry tone. “Tom what did you do?”

 

Tom let out a shuddering breath and rubbed his forehead with his free hand, trying desperately to figure out what to say. How to explain. “I...I was drunk...I don’t know how I...It just happened…” The words tumbled from his lips in a rapid tangle. He knew he was rambling and honestly wasn’t making much sense, but he couldn’t stop himself.

 

“Whoa, whoa. Slow down,” Luke urged, “I can barely understand a word you’ve said.” Tom did so, taking several shallow breaths. “Now try again, slowly this time.” 

 

The words were clearer now, though no less panicked. “I drank more than I honestly meant to…And I don’t know how it happened, honestly I don’t but…”

 

“Tom, what did you do?” Luke’s tone made it abundantly clear he had a very good idea as to just what Tom had been alluding to but wanted him to actually say the words aloud in case he’d been mistaken. 

 

“I had sex with someone,” Tom found himself whispering, guilt and shame flooding through him anew. “...At the club....I didn’t mean…”

 

“God fucking dammit, Tom,” Luke hissed, his frustration and disbelief plain. “Please, for the love of god, tell me you at least thought to use protection.”

 

A ball of ice formed instantly in Tom’s gut at Luke’s words. His vision began to tunnel around him, the room shifting violently in and out of focus. Images from the club’s tiny, dimly lit bathroom replayed in disjointed flashes and jarring stops and starts in his mind. The feel of her hands on him, the overwhelming scent of sex and alcohol, the warmth of her body as it yielded to his… _ God. Oh God. Oh God. Oh God _ . 

 

The phone slipped from his hand as he darted back into the bathroom, collapsing to his knees and retching into the opened bowl. He could hear Luke’s voice echoing from the other room, tinny over the phone’s small speaker, but the words themselves were lost to him. Tom was hot and cold by turns, panic overwhelming everything; his thoughts racing, his heart pounding wildly in his chest. 

 

A few moments later the shrill ring of his phone echoed from the living space. Confusion cut through his panic. How could his phone be ringing if Luke was still on the line? On shaking limbs, Tom managed to push himself to his feet and out of the bathroom, bending to grab the phone from his haphazard place on the floor. Luke’s name flashed across the screen. Mechanically, Tom slid his finger across ‘answer’ and garbled something that sounded vaguely like a greeting. 

 

“God dammit, Tom,” Luke’s voice erupted. Tom cringed at the sound but didn’t speak further, waiting for whatever else Luke would throw at him knowing he deserved it all and more. “Please tell me we lost signal, that you accidently hit a button…Something…Anything…But please, please tell me you weren’t that reckless. That so help me god, you haven’t done what I think you’ve done.”

 

A choked sob burst from Tom’s lips and he fought to calm himself enough to speak coherently. “I didn’t…We didn’t…Oh God, what have I done?”

 

The string of curses from Luke that followed would have normally impressed Tom. It took a great deal to rattle his publicist and Tom had taken great joy over the few years they’d been working together to see just how far he could push Luke before he’d crack and go off. But all Tom could focus on was just how monumentally stupid he’d been. How his life was suddenly and spectacularly crashing around his ears. 

 

_ Molly. Oh God, Molly _ . How could he ever face her again? Knowing what he’d done, how he’d betrayed her, betrayed them? How could he possibly ever explain what he’d done? She would never forgive him this. Never. He knew that with a stark certainty. How could she?

 

“…Fucking hell, Tom! What the ever loving  _ fuck _ were you fucking thinking? Do you have any idea how fucking dangerous this kind of stunt is? Well do you?!” 

 

He could hear the frustration, incredulity, and concern in Luke’s voice and knew he should speak, should say something but he couldn’t find the words. 

 

“God dammit, Tom! Are you even listening to me?”

 

“Fuck, Luke,” he finally breathed into the phone. “…I…What do I do?” Tom could feel himself shaking and it took a conscious effort to keep the phone from slipping from his grasp again. A thousand thoughts echoed around his mind, pinging off of one another until he couldn’t tell them apart. 

 

This could ruin him. One stupid, reckless decision and his career, the life he’d been working so hard to build could be all over before it had even really begun. This had the potential to be utterly catastrophic. But all of that was nothing,  _ nothing _ , to the very real possibility that Molly could and most likely would never be able to forgive him this. One stupid choice and he’d lost it all. 

 

It took a frightening amount of effort for Tom to keep his concentration on level enough to focus on what Luke was saying to him. His publicist’s questions were thrown at him in a rapid fire pace, demanding as many details as Tom could remember; the woman’s name, exactly how they had met, who had approached who, whose idea the encounter was, did she recognize him. On and on the questions seemed to go. Tom stumbled and stuttered his way through them, fighting the ever present nauseated fear which ran rampant inside of him. It was a blessed, but brief, reprieve when Luke finally ended his interrogation, stating he would do what he could to minimize the damage; urging Tom to call if his one night stand made any sort of contact. Telling him that he would call again once he’d gotten appointments scheduled for testing. And all but demanding that Tom tell Molly sooner rather than later. “You need to talk to Molly and now,” Luke warned him knowingly. “She deserves to hear this from you, not from the papers.”

 

_ She deserves to hear it from you, not from the papers.  _

 

The words echoed in his mind, over and over again. He knew it was true and, as horrifying and painful as it would be to confess, she deserved to hear it from him. But Tom honestly wasn’t sure if he could bring himself to utter those words aloud to her; to break her heart and in turn everything they were in the process of becoming. He was the worst sort of coward; selfish and self-centered. Molly deserved so much better.

 

Sleep was elusive for the majority of that night and if he had slept at all, it was in small and fitful bursts. His mind racing through the late turned desperately early hours; going over and over again just what he had done and all that he could never take back, never fix. Tom blinked as sunlight poured in through the opened curtains of the balcony. He was physically drained, exhausted, but he dare not close his eyes, his mind supplying him with the image of Molly’s face as he told her what he’d done. The way it would crumble first in disbelief then in pain and anger; the way her eyes would darken to a stormy blue and the way she would speak his name like a curse, something completely unworthy and beneath her. And god, it hurt.  

 

He had picked up his phone so many times, fingers shaking as he dialed her number, and only to find himself utterly unable to complete the call. He knew he had to, knew that she deserved to know what he had done. And knew just was fervently that he needed to be the one to tell her. It wouldn’t change anything, wouldn’t fix it, but it would be better. And still he couldn’t quite bring himself to actually make the call. How could he possibly do this to her over the phone? Break her heart in such an impersonal manner? Wouldn’t it be far better to tell her to her face? God, he didn’t know. 

 

It would be weeks yet until he was free enough to go home. They had talked, briefly, about her possibly flying out to him. She had the leave time saved and enough money set aside. The only issue being coverage for her at work. So the idea sat hanging, not quite abandoned but not formed enough to be a possibility. And the thought of him encouraging her to come to him now, only to ease his conscious…It was unthinkable. 

 

Disgusted with himself, Tom threw his phone onto the bed beside him and scrubbed his face with his hands. He thanked god that this was one of his few days completely off, he doubted he could make himself focus for anything. And if his concentration were shot it would affect more than just him. As much as he loathed being left alone with his thoughts it was far better than risking disaster inattention could bring. 

 

Luke had called him back shortly before noon, Tom had spent the morning torn between pacing the now confining room and staring blankly at his silent mobile phone warring with indecision, to inform him that he’d made inquiries about testing and timing of such things and that he had a tentative appointment in five days’ time with a discrete clinic. The idea of having to wait another five days made his stomach twist but Luke assured him that it was the earliest he could be squeezed in that would yield the most accurate results. 

 

Molly hadn’t called again until later that evening. Tom had found himself staring at the screen, at her picture, and utterly unable to move; his indecision not fading until well after the call had clicked over to voicemail. He couldn’t keep doing this, it was driving him mad. He needed to tell her, needed to get this godforsaken axe of his own making to stop hanging over him. 

 

With a determination that he did not completely believe, Tom picked up his phone and with a shaky breath quickly dialed her number, hitting send before he had a chance to second guess the wisdom of his choice. It rang once and then twice before there was an audible click and her warm voice filled his ear. “Tom. I’m so glad you called back.”

 

“Mols…” Guilt rose in his chest as he uttered her name. God, he didn’t think he could do this. 

 

She let out a soft, heartfelt laugh. “I thought for sure I’d missed you again. How are you? God, did I get the timing right? Please tell me I didn’t wake you.” 

 

“No,” he managed to choke out, dropping himself silently onto the edge of the bed. “No, you’re fine. I was in the other room…I just saw you called... It’s not quite eight yet here…Why are you awake? It’s got to be going on four in the morning? Is everything alright? Are you alright?” Panic overwhelmed him as the time difference clicked in his head… _ Oh god…She has to know…Why else would she call so late? Oh god… _

“No!” She all but shouted, causing him to jump nearly out of his skin. “No. No. No. Tom, I’m fine. Completely fine.” She laughed again. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I didn’t think…I got called into work late and I’m currently on quick break. I just…I heard back from my supervisor, they’ve approved my leave for next month! I’ll actually be able to go to the premiere!” The pure joy in her voice was a knife to the heart. 

 

_ You need to tell her. Tell her now before she buys that ticket. Tell her! _ “Really?” He heard himself reply instead, the unnatural cheeriness in his voice jarring him. “That is wonderful, darling.” If Molly noticed, she hadn’t called him out on it.  _ Tell her! _

 

Molly gushed her excitement for several more minutes before cursing and apologizing. “Shit, sorry, my break’s just about up. I’ll call you sometime later today…Or I guess tomorrow for you, and we’ll figure out details. Love you, Tom. So much.”

 

He stumbled out a reply, not honestly sure just what he had said, as his mobile beeped signaling the end of the call. The phone slipped from his fingers onto the mused bedspread. “Fuck,” he hissed aloud. “Fuck. Fuck.  _ Fuck _ .”

 

Sleep remained elusive for the next several nights and the meager amount he managed to scrape together was barely enough to keep him upright. More often than not he’d heard the make-up team comment, usually in quiet whispers, about the ever growing circles under his eyes. He continued, to the best of his ability, to fulfill the obligations he’d promised; both in the newest project he was filming and in the promotional material required by Marvel for  _ Thor  _ prior to its premiere. He did his utmost best to be charming and as ‘on’ as could be helped, but knew he was more often than not falling woefully short. 

 

He’d spoke to Molly a handful of times on the phone, frequently moving to end those calls after only a handful of minutes citing work or other obligations on his time. He hadn’t the nerve to actually bring himself to tell her his mistake during any of the calls; no matter how he tried to word just what he would say in his head, when the time would come he couldn’t make himself talk. He felt the worst sort of coward.  _ Because I am.  _

 

Molly was plainly disheartened at his sudden distance; he could hear it in the tone of her voice, see it in her eyes during their one and only short-lived video call. But she did not pressure Tom to tell her just what was going on, though he knew she wanted to. Luke had taken on the helm of helping plan her trip to LA all the while shooting daggers at his client whenever they met. 

 

“What are you playing at, Hiddleston?” Luke hissed as the elevator doors slid shut. Tom had spent the majority of his day flitting around between various hotel conference rooms, from interview to interview both with his  _ Thor _ cast mates and on his own; he was tired and wanted nothing more than to just sleep. 

 

Blinking in confusion, Tom turned towards his publicist. “What?”

 

The look Luke shot him would have burned a weaker man to his core and as it stood caused Tom’s stomach to twist itself into knots. “You know damn well what.” Luke raised his hand, jabbing an accusing finger into Tom’s chest. “You need to tell her. I’m imploring you as a friend. Tom, please,  _ please _ , tell her. She has the right to know what happened and to make her own choices regarding it. If you love her, you  _ have _ to say something.” 

 

It was a fine line he was walking, and Luke knew it. He made it a rule to not meddle in his client’s personal affairs beyond what he was contractually obligated to handle. But this…This was personal. Tom had crossed that line from client into friend and Molly was someone he genuinely cared for. He couldn’t not push this. 

 

Tom’s hands clenched at his sides as guilt flooded through him yet again. Luke was right, of fucking course he was right. But why couldn’t he understand just how difficult it was to find the words to tell the person you love desperately that you’d done the unthinkable? “I know, Luke. I fucking  _ know _ ! I just…I…I will tell her. I have to…I just need to figure out  _ how.  _ Just let me figure it out on my own. Please. Let me handle this.”

 

It was abundantly clear to Tom that his friend found his noncommittal answer wanting. Luke merely narrowed his eyes but did not speak. The remainder of the elevator ride was spent in a charged silence that neither man sought to break. With a curt nod, Luke left Tom at his room door and disappeared down the hallway. 

 

Exhausted and frustrated, Tom threw himself onto the bed, letting out a halfhearted groan. His phone buzzed in his back pocket and it took several moments of jerking movement to wrench it free. Molly’s smile lit the screen and the ever present thrum of guilt tightened his chest. The offhand thought to either dismiss the call or let it ring to voicemail was tempting beyond belief. Sorely tempting but Tom knew it would only be a temporary respite and one that could so easily blow up in his face. 

 

He took a deep breath before answering the call. “Molly.”

 

“You actually answered,” she whispered, her words matter of fact but tinged with a definite hint of sadness and surprise. Tom wanted nothing more than to kick himself, repeatedly. 

 

He winced, rubbing his free hand over his forehead in a vain effort to stave off the headache he could feel brewing. “I know I’ve not been readily available lately, Mols. I’m sorry…It’s just been…”

 

There was an unnatural silence on the other end of the line and for a brief moment, Tom was sure she’d hung up on him. When Molly spoke again her voice was soft and full of worry. “Something is wrong, Tom. Please don’t insult my intelligence by saying otherwise. You’ve been different…Distant for almost a week now. This isn’t like you…Just please, talk to me.”

 

“Molly, I…” There it was, the perfect opportunity to tell her, to come clean, and the words stuck in his throat. “It’s just been ridiculously hectic. Between filming and all the promotion I’ve been required to do, I’ve been running myself ragged. I’m sorry I’ve not been more open…I just…I didn’t want to drag you into it, I know you’ve got enough on your plate.” The words felt hollow and wrong but he couldn’t seem to stop them.  _ Liar! _ His mind hissed at him.  _ Coward! _

 

“Tom…”

 

“Please, Molly, don’t worry. I’m tired but fine. I’m glad you are coming soon. I’ve missed you.” He felt sick to his stomach. This was wrong; selfish and cowardly and simply  _ wrong _ , but he’d done it all the same. 

 

“Are you sure that it’s still a good idea? Me coming?” He could so easily hear the uncertainty in her voice and it cut. She’d been so excited about coming to see him, albeit nervous about the red carpet and all that it entailed. He couldn’t take that from her. “If things are as hectic as you say wouldn’t I be in the way?” 

 

“No…No. Not at all. You wanted to come and I want you to come. Hopefully things will have calmed and we can enjoy the time together.” He’d meant it, as twisted as his gut felt. He had wanted her there, and desperately, needed to have her support at his side. But the guilt was near overwhelming. How could he have her right there beside him and live with the knowledge that he’d betrayed her? Betrayed them? He needed to tell her but he couldn’t do it now, not after what he’d just said. 

 

Luke’s words echoed in his mind. ‘ _ You have to tell her… She has the right to know what happened and to make her own choices regarding it. If you love her, you  _ have _ to say something _ .’ And the guilt continued to rend his innards apart. 

 

He couldn’t tell her now though…But after the premiere; perhaps after he’d find the courage to say he’d lied…That he had made a horrid mistake that he would give anything to take back. That he was so very terribly sorry. He would lose her…The fear of that fact felt like ice in his stomach. But maybe…Maybe she would find it in her to forgive. Even if he surely did not deserve it.

 

“Tom I don’t know…”

 

“Just think about it. Please…”  _ Please let me give you this before I have to shatter everything _ . 

 

“Okay.”

 

The next morning dawned grey and rainy, which he’d found oddly appropriate as he was scheduled for his round of testing in the early afternoon. He’d once again slept poorly, tossing and turning as both guilt and fear took their turns running through his mind. He’d been running himself ragged with work trying desperately not to think. Every little change in his physicality sent his mind reeling. Was this fatigue from stress and overwork or a sign of something more sinister? Every cough, every twinge. It was driving him mad. He’d been both relieved and terrified when the car Luke had hired for him arrived, its driver calling at just after noon. 

 

As promised the clinic was discreet; tucked away in a quieter part of town, nothing that would attract any undue attention. The receptionist and PA he saw upon arrival were friendly and understanding. It was a simple matter to drawn the needed vials of blood and give the required urine sample. The rapid HIV screening, he was assured, would be ready in twenty minutes but the remaining tests would take anywhere from five to seven days, leaning most likely towards seven. He had been ushered into a secluded waiting area and offered tea or coffee while he waited. 

 

He'd taken the offered cup of coffee but couldn’t bring himself to drink it, his stomach tying itself in elaborate knots. He didn’t dare let himself hope that the test would be negative for the irrational fear that in doing so he would bring about the opposite. Nor could he let himself ponder the horrifying possibility that it was not. He jumped at every sound and feared he would pull all of his hair out when the waiting room door finally opened and the same PA he’d seen earlier walked inside.

 

She smiled softly at him. He could hear the sound of her voice, see her lips moving but anything she’d said after, “Your rapid test came back negative” were lost on him. He wanted to laugh and cry, relief flooding through him.

 

“Mr. Hiddleston.” 

 

Tom’s head shot up and he realized with a flood of embarrassment that she had been trying to get his attention for probably the last several minutes. “I’m sorry, what?”

 

She nodded in understanding and continued. “I was telling you that we’ll give you a call in around seven days with the rest of your results. I would advise you to refrain from any sexual activity until you’ve received your results and are cleared. I also want to caution you that you will need to be retested in three months’ time for HIV and again in a further six months to be sure you are in the clear. And if anything is found in your remaining bloodwork further testing may be warranted.”

 

He nodded slowly, his brief respite of relief vanishing. “Al-alright.” 

 

She handed him a small packet of papers and escorted him to the side door where the hire car stood waiting. Tom climbed inside, his brain a constant mess of buzzing fear and uncertainty. He was barely aware of the ride back to his hotel and then of the walk through the lobby, the ride up the elevator and entering the room itself. Nausea rolled through him, he fought back the feeling, shutting his eyes tightly and fell onto the bed. 

  
  



	2. PART TWO

Tom spent the next week in constant state of subterranean fear. He’d informed Luke of his initial result and knew that his publicist was just as anxiously awaiting the remaining as well. Tom had allowed himself to go through the motions; to smile and act as if nothing whatsoever was wrong, but he was a jumbled mess on the inside. Each time his phone rang he fought the urge to jump several feet in the air, as his heart pounded in his chest. If anyone noticed his anxiousness, and Tom was certain they had (how could they not?), no one had said a word. They smiled and laughed with him. And so he kept on keeping on for lack of anything else to do.

 

It was midafternoon on the seventh day when the clinic finally called with his remaining results. Tom had excused himself from set, grateful that it was not his scenes they were currently filming, and ducked into a quieter area of the studio. The call had been brief and the woman he’d spoken to had been warm but professional; they’d all come back negative. All but one. And his heart had frozen in his chest at that. Chlamydia. It was treatable, the woman from the clinic had assured. And easily so. He would need to be started on a course of Doxycycline twice a day for seven days and would need to continue to abstain from sexual activity until the course of antibiotics was completed. Simple and easy. He mumbled what he’d hoped was understanding and agreed to pick up his antibiotic as soon as possible.

 

Tom stood staring at his phone for several minutes after the call had ended; nausea and fear rushing over him in revolving waves. _Fuck. Fuck. Fuck_. Theoretically, he knew that of all the damned things he could have ended up with he’d gotten lucky, _so fucking lucky_ , getting something that was easily treated. In the scheme of things, this wasn’t anything like the end of the world. But that did little to quell his panic. He’d been so fucking bloody stupid. And Molly…God, Molly would be there in a few days’ time…How could he ever hope to explain…?

 

“Hey Tom,” A quiet female voice cut through the silence of the room. His head automatically shot up, catching sight of one of the PA’s, clipboard in hand as she rounded the corner. “Sorry to interrupt but we need you back on set.”

 

He nodded his assent. “Be right there.”

 

 Once she’d rounded the corner once more, Tom fired off a quick text to Luke asking him to arrange to have his prescription picked up and brought to back to his room. Not bothering to wait for a response, he quickly pocketed the phone and headed back towards set, trying to steel his mind to the task at hand. There were still several hours left and he needed to focus.

 

When Tom finally made it back to his room in the late evening, all he wanted to do was sleep. Between the early set calls and the constant stress he’d been under, Tom had been left feeling beyond drained. He scrubbed his hand over his face and dropped wallet and phone onto the night stand next to his bed. Sitting next to the room phone on the far bedside table was a white bag. Puzzlement crossed his features before understanding dawned.

 

He pushed himself back to his feet and padded towards the mini-fridge and grabbed a bottle of water. Opening the bottle, he made his way back towards the bed, grabbing the bag and pulling out the package of antibiotics. A quick read of the pharmacist instructions and two swallowed capsules later, Tom dropped his head back onto the pillow and let out a soft sigh. He was wide awake now and somehow doubted sleep would come anytime soon. But he had to try.

 

 

Molly’s flight arrived in the early afternoon two days later. Tom had been onset and had sent Luke to fetch her in his stead. He ignored the familiar stab of guilt as his eyes turned once more to the clock above the director’s chair. She would be clearing customs by now and he could clearly picture the look on her face when she saw Luke waiting for her and not Tom. He was such a fucking coward. He technically could have gotten the day off if he’d wanted. They had shot most of his scenes and, save for any needed pick-ups or reshoots, he was, for all intents and purposes, done. But the idea of facing Molly terrified him. Misdirecting the truth on the phone was one thing (as difficult as it had been to do so), but doing so face to face….That was entirely another.

 

And he needed to tell her, he knew that. Especially now. But not yet…He couldn’t do it yet. She’d be tired from the flight and anxious about the red carpet the following evening (while she’d done several smaller events with him…This would be her first major outing on his arm). To throw all of this on her now would be the height of cruelty. He couldn’t ruin this for her…Or risk a scene on the carpet, because such a thing would be a disaster which would be hard to explain away…Tom cursed himself for letting that thought even cross his mind. Selfish. God, he was so fucking selfish.

 

He’d gotten Luke’s text saying Molly was with him and they were heading back to the hotel at a touch after two in the afternoon just as the production had broken for lunch. Tom had taken to carrying the antibiotic with him as the hours on set were long and oftentimes unpredictable, so there would thankfully be little chance of her finding them and asking pointed questions he still wasn’t sure how to answer.

 

How did one even begin to explain the cluster fuck that was his current situation? ‘ _Well you see, darling, I got stupidly drunk and fucked some random woman in a bathroom at a club and didn’t wear protection and now I’ve got an STD, but don’t worry it’s completely curable. And I know you’re undoubtedly cross with me but I still love you_.’ That would go over just as well as a lead balloon. Letting Luke know that he would probably be wrapping up in about an hour, Tom made his way back onto set after a hastily grabbed sandwich and threw himself into work.

 

The cab pulled to a stop in front of his hotel at fifteen after three and Tom made his way up to his room, making a great effort to steady his nerves and to control his face. The last thing wanted to do was scare or worry her. Not yet. He pushed the door to his room open and had barely let it close behind him when she was in his arms. He let out a grunt of surprise, the shock of her warmth against his chest, and wrapped his arms around her to steady them both.

 

“God, I missed you,” she breathed into his neck.

 

Tom swallowed thickly, the guilt choking him now. It took several moments before he could force the words out of his lips. “Missed you too.”

 

Molly pulled back enough to take in his face and her own broke into a warm smile. Without a word, she leaned in and kissed him gently. He didn’t move to deepen the kiss and, after several moments, she pulled back to study him, puzzled. “Tom, are you alright?” Curiosity and concern burned in the depths of her eyes, making them shine a vivid, dark blue and burning the life out of him.

 

He took several steps back, stepping deftly from her embrace, and shrugged. “I’m find. Just tired. It’s been a long morning.” He held his hand out to her and she took it tentatively. He squeezed her fingers in his and added, “I’m sorry I couldn’t get you today. There wasn’t any way I could get away.”

 

There was a sliver of doubt in her eyes but she simply nodded. “I know. You’re here now and that’s what matters.”

 

Tom nodded, “I’m here now.” Silence fell between them. “So,” he started, raising his eyes to hers, and offering what he hoped was a warm smile. “What would you like to do?”

 

“Honestly, sleep,” She laughed softly.” God I would love nothing more than to just _sleep_. But I doubt very much that it would help me acclimate to this time zone if I did.”

 

“No, probably not.” Tom answered with a small chuckle of his own. It sounded hollow to his own ears.

 

“Damn.” Molly yawned, pulling her hand from his and stretching her arms above her head. “I guess that massive amounts of caffeine will have to suffice. So know any good coffee shops?”

 

“I think I can find us one. Shall we?”

 

They settled in a small, locally owned coffee shop not a terrible distance away from the hotel and talked pleasantly over their coffees. They talked about work, about what was happening with friends and family, and any small thing which popped into their heads. He was both grateful and terrified to have her so close. He had missed her dreadfully, god if he could have only seen her sooner then maybe none of this…He refused to let himself even finish the thought. This was in no way, shape, or form her fault. It was his. No one’s fault but his own.

 

After they had finished their coffees he’d taken her on a short walk around the city. She’d gladly taken his arm and let him tell her about the small tidbits of knowledge he’d gathered from both his own wonderings and from crew and fellow cast members. The weather was fair and for that short amount of time, Tom let himself pretend that all was well between them. That he wasn’t putting off breaking her heart and the very real possibility he’d lose her forever once he did so.

 

Dinner was a quick affair in the hotel restaurant. It was close, the food was decent, and Tom knew that Molly was dreadfully tired. She’d commandeered the shower not long after they’d arrived back at the room from dinner, stating that she’d planned to turn in early. While she had puttered around the rather large bathroom, Tom pulled his antibiotic bottle from the carryall he’d taken to bringing with him on set. He fished another bottle of water from the fridge and poured out two capsules into his opened palm.

 

He'd just tossed the capsules into his mouth when the bathroom door opened and Molly wandered out, dark hair wrapped in a towel and dressed in a loose fitting t-shirt and jogging bottoms. He nearly choked on both water and capsules, ending up in a violent coughing fit. “Bathroom’s all yours…Tom are you alright?”

 

Tom nodded, clutching his chest which felt very much like it was on fire. “Yes,” he managed to get out, voice hoarse from coughing. “Pills didn’t go down the right way.” He grimaced as he realized just what he’d said. _Shit_.

 

Molly’s brow furrowed, “Pills?” She hurried towards the bed and before Tom could stop her she’d grabbed the bottle, staring at it. He’d scratched out all the identifying information including his name and the reason the medication was prescribed as soon as he’d gotten the bottle; there was no such thing as too careful as far as he was concerned. She flitted her eyes to him, concerned. “Why are you taking antibiotics? What’s happened?” It was truly something, watching her slip into what he’d always affectionately called ‘nurse mode’ and normally Tom found it endearing if not a bit overwhelming. Now though, now it flooded him with fear. God, why had he fucking spoken without thinking?

 

He took the bottle from her and placed it onto the bed stand. He wracked his brain trying desperately to think of what to say. He knew without a doubt what he should say was the truth. Lying would only make it harder to tell her the truth. But the idea of telling her, of actually saying the words aloud terrified him. She would storm out. She would leave him. And he couldn’t let that happen. He needed her. Needed her so badly.

 

“You know how I’ve been off for the past week or so?” He found himself speaking, his voice surprisingly even. “I went to a clinic because I knew something wasn’t right. They ran a few tests and turns out I had a rather nasty bout of strep throat. So they started me on antibiotics.” The lie flowed far easier than he could have imagined. And once it was out, he couldn’t take it back.

 

Her brow furrowed. “Why is the label all scratched out?”

 

“Privacy,” he answered, with a small shrug. The words continued to come and he hated himself for them. “It’s fairly standard here to do that. In case it gets misplaced. I thought it odd too but…”

 

Molly looked anything but convinced but did not press the matter. After several minutes she pondered aloud, “I wonder why they prescribed you Doxycycline. That’s not usual…Or at least not that I’ve seen.”

 

Tom shrugged, “I don’t know. I was just grateful to have a reason for why things have been so off.”

 

“Why didn’t you tell me this earlier? When I asked?” The concern was back in her tone but this time laced with just the barest hint of doubt.

 

He swallowed before answering. “I didn’t want you to worry. I know you’ve got so much going on right now and I was loath to add anything more on your shoulders.” Tom smiled at her softly, hoping to ease her growing concern. “But I’m fine. No harm, no foul.”

 

“Tom,” she chastised, “You should have told me. Yes, work is a bit hectic, but I’m not made of glass. You can talk to me. You _should_ have talked to me.” Molly paced around the room, standing just out of his reach. He could so easily sense her hurt at his perceived slight. _Not so perceived_ , he thought bitterly. _Pretty damned real_.

 

“I know. I was stupid and I’m sorry. Can you forgive me?” His forced himself to lock his eyes on hers. _Please, please can you ever forgive me for what I’ve done? I need you to forgive me_. Tom hated himself for thinking it, for asking for something he knew he’d not earned the right to.

 

“Tom…” She took a deep breath and walked back towards him and the bed. “It’s alright. Just please talk to me. I love you and I worry, you know that.” Molly took his hand in hers, linking their fingers.

 

A watery smile spread slowly across his face as he squeezed her hands in his. “I love you, too. So very, very much.” Molly settled beside him on the bed and leaned her head on his shoulder, turning to press a kiss against it. “I am sorry,” he continued, trying desperately to keep himself in check but needing her to know just how terribly sorry he really was. Even if he couldn’t tell her why. “Truly, I am.”

 

“I know,” she whispered, kissing his shoulder once more. “It’s done, Tom. Now let’s try to get some sleep. It’s been a ridiculously long day and I don’t know about you but I am utterly exhausted.”

 

Tom nodded and kissed her the top of her head. “Alright. To bed with you then.”

 

Molly pulled herself from his grasp and climbed towards the left hand side of the bed, burrowing beneath the covers. Tom pushed himself to his feet, fighting the feeling of guilt the churned in his gut, and stumbled into the bathroom. He quickly brushed his teeth and scrubbed his face, taking a deep breath before returning to the main room. He pulled his shirt over his head and toed off his boots. Pulling a pair of pajama bottoms from the chair in the corner, he quickly changed and headed back towards the bed. He found himself hesitating as he approached, his guilt warring with the desperate need of normalcy. Molly turned over and patted the spot behind her. “Come here you.” He offered a small smile before climbing into the bed and flipping the light off behind him.

 

Sleep came easier than he’d expected and he found himself waking in confusion the next morning, feeling the warm body pressed against him. Tom cracked open first one eye and then the other, Molly’s sleeping form slowing coming into focus. She was there, he hadn’t dreamt it, and for a brief moment a flood of contentment overwhelmed him. Then reality came crashing back. He fought the urge to volt himself out of the bed, it would raise more questions and concern than he could honestly handle.

 

He watched her for several moments; the way her dark hair spread over the pillow beneath her, having come out of its braid sometime in the night, the way her eyelashes brushed against her cheeks, the peaceful look on her beautiful face. He didn’t deserve her. Not in the slightest. And if she knew…

 

“What are you staring at so hard?” Molly’s sleep laden voice broken Tom from his thoughts. He blinked rapidly and looked down to find her warm, blue eyes staring up at him in confusion.

 

“Sorry,” he murmured. “Just lost in thought. Did you sleep well?”

 

She nodded and stretched her arms above her head as a large yawn rolled from her lips. “God, sorry. But yes, I slept like the dead. Nothing like jetlag, eh?” Tom laughed despite himself. “What time is it anyway?”

 

Rolling to the side, Tom grabbed his watch from the bed stand. “Half eight. We’ve got about three hours until the madness descends.” Luke had sent him a text the day before confirming that his stylist (and that was still strange) and someone from hair and make-up would be coming around at about noon to get both he and Molly ready for the premiere.

 

Molly quirked an eyebrow. “Three hours, eh? Plenty of time for all sorts of fun.” She leaned up and kissed him. He allowed himself to be pulled into the kiss, missing the feel of her warmth in his arms. And suddenly it was as if he’d been doused in ice water. Realization as to just why he couldn’t do this. _Fuck_. With reluctance he pulled back, taking in the concern was steadily growing in her eyes. “Tom what…?”

 

“I just…I’m still not 100% and I don’t want to risk you getting sick because of me.” It was the truth, in none so many words, but he hated himself for speaking them. “Why…Let me take you to breakfast? Somewhere nice? After all if you’re in LA you might as well see what all the fuss is about.”

 

He climbed out of bed and made a hasty retreat into the bathroom, stopping briefly to grab a change of clothing along the way. He didn’t dare look back at Molly. Once dressed, Tom made his way back into the main room to find Molly dressed as well. She didn’t utter a word as she brushed past him and into the bathroom. _Shit. Shit. Shit_.

 

Tom hated himself for all of this and desperately wanted to her so. But he couldn’t tell her why. Not now. The stark realization made his gut clench. He couldn’t tell her. The time for that had come and gone. He’d told too many half-truths and blatant lies to have any hope of ever coming clean. The best he could hope for now was to put all of this behind him as much he was able. And then to work has hard as he could to make himself worthy of her in future.

 

The elevator ride down to the lobby of the hotel was spent in silence and Tom swore he could hear the frantic beating of his heart against his chest. He’d be surprised if Molly couldn’t hear it as well. She did however let him take her hand as they made their way from the hotel and down the relatively crowded streets. The small café was about a five minute walk from the hotel and by the time they’d been seated, Molly seemed to have relaxed enough to speak with him again. They made small talk over plates of egg, bacon, and pancakes (something he’d insisted she have because they were ‘utterly divine’). She smiled as he told her how he’d stumbled across this place not too long after he’d arrived and how he’d had to make a conscious effort to avoid it most days so he wouldn’t eat his weight in delicious food on a daily basis.

 

By the time they’d returned to the hotel it was nearly noon. At twelve on the dot madness did in face arrive. The next several hours were spent in a whirlwind of clothing, hairspray, pins, and makeup. His suit had taken little time to fit and his make-up and hair even less but having these people on hand for Molly (who had always dressed herself and done her own makeup and hair for those few events she’d attended with him) was something he’d desperately wanted.

 

She was a vision in a deep blue off the shoulder dress than hung just past her knees. It clung to her curves and enhanced her eyes in the most striking fashion. Her hair was piled effortlessly atop her head and her makeup was subtle but stunning. She looked gorgeous and Tom couldn’t seem to take his eyes off her. “You look utterly enchanting,” he told her with complete and transparent honesty.

 

Molly smiled softly back at him. “Thank you. I feel…This is so…Odd. Brilliant, but odd.” She twirled slowly before the mirror, smiling softly to herself as she did so.

 

Tom nodded in understanding. His phone chimed in his pocket, he pulled it out to find the car hired to take them to the theater had arrived. He shoved it back into his pocket and held his hand out to Molly. “Our chariot awaits. Shall we, my love?”

 

She nodded, taking his hand and allowing him to lead her from the room and down to the lobby and the waiting car.

 

 

The crowd outside the theater was far larger than Tom had expected. It was nothing like he’d ever experienced and it was nearly overwhelming. He could feel Molly’s tight grip on his hand as they climbed from the hire car and slowly made their way down the carpet. Luke flitted around beside them, causally directing Tom where to go and who to talk to. The flashes were blinding and the noise was overwhelming. Tom spoke graciously with reporter after reporter, laughing at their jokes and sharing small tidbits about filming with them. He’d proudly called Molly his girlfriend when asked but did not reveal more detail than was needed. And she stood beside him, smiling and leaning against him.

 

Once they’d made their way inside, Molly and Tom were ushered into the theater and to their seats. The lights dimmed and the film began. Molly gushed at how much she’d enjoyed the film on their way towards the after party; going on about the script and Tom’s acting and her favorite scenes. She’d clearly been having the time of her life and Tom couldn’t have be happier for it, for her. They’d drank and danced and generally had a wonderful night of it, stumbling back towards the hotel in the early hours.

 

The next morning dawned far too early for either of their likings. Molly’s flight was scheduled for early in the afternoon and they’d reluctantly set alarms accordingly. Neither had drunk to access the night, and well into the early morning, before but weren’t quite in fighting shape either. Molly had unpacked little upon her arrival which made life infinitely easier. Still it was a scramble to get the last minute bits and bobs squared away. Tom had given her one of his sweater jackets for the flight home. She’d accepted it gratefully and climbed into the waiting taxi. He’d quickly kissed her goodbye and assured her that he’d be home within the next week. Two at the most.

 

He’d thrown himself into finishing up his commitments, wanting to be done with LA and the mess he’d made there. Molly had been set to text him when she’d landed so when that time had come and gone without a word, a sinking sense of dread filled him. He told himself it was nothing, she’d most likely been tired and had been set on getting herself home and settled. She would call after, he had to believe that.

 

When his phone rang early the following morning he’d felt his heart lighten at sight of her name on the screen. “You’ve made it home then. I was worried.”

 

“Tom,” Molly began. “I need you to tell me the truth.”

 

He felt his heart stutter in his chest. “Mols, what…What’s going on?”

 

“I found something in your pocket. In the jumper you gave me.” His heart thudded in his chest and the blood rushed in his ears. Something was wrong. Very, very wrong. “Tom who is Heather?” Molly asked. Her voice was strangely even and it took everything he had to keep from dropping the phone.

 

“What?” He managed to choke out.

 

“Her name and number were in your pocket. On a cocktail napkin.” Molly’s words were cool, even. “Tom, I need you to explain this to me.”

 

Panic flooded through him. Oh god, how could he have left that stupid napkin in his fucking pocket? He hadn’t thought about it since she’d placed it into his hand that night. Hadn’t spared a thought for what he’d done with it. How the bloody hell could he have kept it? And then fucking _given_ it to Molly? “It’s nothing, I promise you. I honestly had no idea that was even in there. I must have been given it by a fan sometime and hadn’t had a chance to give it to Luke to throw away. I would never…” The lies spilled from his lips rapidly though his voice was surprisingly even and calm, despite the chaos rampaging through him. “You know me, Molly.” _Liar. Liar! You bloody fucking coward of a liar!_

 

There was hesitation on her end and it was several moments before she spoke again. “I just…with the way you’d been acting and then the prescription and now the number…I was so scared that you…”

 

“Molly…” He started, fighting to keep his voice even.

 

“But I know you, Tom. And I know you’d never…I just…I saw it and I panicked. I’m sorry. God, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” Her voice was trembling and he knew she was close to tears. The guilt was overwhelming but still…

 

“You’ve done two transatlantic flights in a short amount of time. That’s bound to make anyone on edge. You are alright, Molly. It’s okay. I love you.” He was the worst sort of person. A liar and a bloody coward. But he couldn’t…Not now…He couldn’t tell her now. “I’ll be home soon and we’ll be back on our feet soon enough. I’ve got a small bit of time off and we’ll do something…We’ll do something, just you and I.”

 

Molly laughed softly and he could hear the tears in her voice as she spoke. “That honestly sounds wonderful, Tom.”

 

 

They’d spent a weekend in Paris upon his return home. They’d spoken often of wanting to go but never seeming to have the time. He’d surprised her with the Eurostar tickets and booking information for a lovely bed and breakfast not far from the city center as soon as he’d walked in the door. She’d laughed then and pulled him tightly into her arms, kissing him soundly. They’d spent their time there wandering the city by day; visiting museums and restaurants, taking in all Paris had to offer, and then reacquainting themselves with each other by night. He’d been attentive and wonderful and so much as he had been in those first few days of their relationship; when everything was bright and new and full of endless potential.

 

He’d made it a point from then on to make the effort to come to her as often as he could while away and, if that wasn’t feasible, to bring her to him whenever possible. There were stumbling and false starts along the way, but they seemed to eventually get find the balance they’d needed to make things work between them. And it was just as well since his career began to skyrocket in ways neither he nor Molly had dreamed. She’d been with him every stop along the way, proudly standing beside him; still nervous and unsure but there holding his hand and ever beaming with pride in him and all he was becoming.

 

Molly had been with him when he’d purchased his home in London six months later; a lovely three story terraced house nestled near a large park in a grand neighborhood. Tom had insisted she come with him as it would be her home just as much as his and he needed her to be comfortable and happy with his choice. With their choice.

 

Within four months of moving in, Tom had proposed. It had been a small and simple affair (she had never been one for grand gestures); he’d taken the day to prepare a lovely meal and decorated the lower level of the house with dozens upon dozens of candles. The ring securely stored in his trouser pocket, he’d greeted her at the door and led her into the flickering light of the dining room.

 

She’d watched him with surprised and uncertain eyes as he led her to the table and poured her a glass of wine. “To what do I owe this surprise?” She’d managed to ask after settling her nerves with a restorative sip.

 

Tom smiled at her then, eyes warm and full of love, “Can’t I just spoil you?”

 

Molly quirked her eyebrow and shot him a knowing look but said nothing, only smiling in return. They ate their meal, peppering the moments between bites with conversation. He was nearly vibrating out of his chair by the time they were ready for coffee and dessert and he knew she could sense it. He could feel her eyes on him as he disappeared into the kitchen and returned carrying a tray laden with coffee press, mugs, and cake. He made quick work of serving both cake and coffee but did not return to his seat at the table.

 

She raised her eyes to his, her voice catching in her throat as she whispered his name in confusion. “Tom?”

 

Taking a deep breath, he lowered himself to one knee. Molly’s sudden intake of breath echoed above him. He took a moment to compose himself before raising his head and looking her directly in her shining face. “Molly, you are without a shadow of a doubt the most amazing, wonderful thing that has ever happened to me. I will never understand just how I ever became lucky enough to have you in my life.” He felt his throat tighten with emotion, forcing him to pause long enough to try to clear it enough to continue. “You are not only my rock but the cord that tethers me to myself. You are everything I have ever wanted. Everything I have ever needed. And everything I never dreamed I could have. I will spend every single remaining day of my life doing my utmost best to be worthy of the love you’ve shown me. I will never, ever take you for granted and I will love you with all that I am.” Tears were stinging his eyes as he spoke, holding the velvet box out towards her. “Will you do me the extraordinary honor of being my wife?”

 

Molly smiled and nodded, tears flowing steadily from her eyes as she extended her left hand to him. Tears shining in his own, Tom opened the box reveling the beautiful sapphire ring he’d spent months searching for nestled within. He took her shaking hand in his and with slow and deliberate care slipped the ring onto her finger. Laughing, she pulled him against her and kissed him deeply.

 

Tom pulled back, tears trailing down his cheeks and locked his eyes with hers. “Thank you,” he whispered before pulling her against him once more and burying his face in her abdomen. “Thank you.”

 

 

The announcement was released in the Times a few days later, shortly after both had broken the news to their respective families. Tom’s sisters had shrieked loud enough frighten all the dogs in the greater London area and Molly’s mother had broken into tears (“Happy tears my love,” she’d assured her. “He’s a truly wonderful lad and I’m so very, very happy for you both”) which had sent Molly into them as well.

 

Wedding planning had taken up more of her time that Molly had expected. What had seemed like a simple affair with close friends and family was rapidly becoming anything but. And the stress of it was starting to take its toll. Exhaustion and bouts of nausea had taken turns disrupting her life Between the wedding and the ever changing shifts she’d been forced to adopt, Molly wasn’t sure she would make it the six months until the wedding.

 

Tom had done all he could to help; spending as much time as he could on the phone with caterers and florists while juggling script readings and auditions. He’d done everything in his power to help shoulder the burden he knew the wedding prep had placed on his fiancée’s shoulders. But when promotional duty called and Tom was pulled back into the fray his professional life had become, it was with a weary reluctance Molly let him go.

 

“This is going to be the death of me,” She whined as Tom dropped his suitcase by the door.

 

He offered her a warm smile. “I don’t care where it happens, my love. All I care about is that it happens. We can simply go to the registrar’s office and call it a day.” He laughed when she wrinkled her nose at that. “Or we can go all out. That is not the important thing for me. I just want to be able to call you my wife.”

 

Tears streamed down Molly’s cheeks and she worked to quickly wipe them away while swatting absently at him. “God, Tom. Why are you so bloody perfect? It’s exhausting.” She laughed softly. “I’m going to miss you.”

 

He leaned in and kissed her soundly, hands moving to tangle in her dark hair. “I’m going to miss you desperately as well. But I will be back as soon as I can, Luke and everything be damned.”

 

She laughed against his lips. “Can I be a fly on the wall when you tell him that?”

 

Tom laughed in earnest and pulled her tightly against him, burying his face in her hair. “I really wish I didn’t have to go.”

 

“Me too. But duty calls.” Molly took a deep breath and pulled reluctantly back, squeezing his shoulders. “Go on, you’ve got reporters to charm and fans to dazzle. Just don’t you go forgetting about me.”

 

Tom shook his head vigorously. “Never happen.”

 

Outside the honk of a car horn echoed. Molly brushed tears away with the back of her hand. “Looks like your ride is here.” She smiled warmly. “Take care, Tom. I love you.”

 

He leaned in and kissed her soundly once more. “I love you too. Be home as soon as I can.”

 

Tom reluctantly pulled away as the car horn sounded again. He kissed her forehead and strode with purpose to the door, grabbed his suitcase, and headed out to the waiting car.

 

 

“It’s true then, isn’t it?” Molly’s voice was quiet, even, and it brought Tom crashing back into the present. His eyes locked on hers in silent panic; her question had knocked him completely off his guard.  He watched her then; the solid set of her shoulders, the stillness of her body speaking volumes of just how much his lies and silence had cost him.

 

“Wha…? No! NO!” The words tumbled from his lips, the denial almost reflexive. But it was too late and he’d known it.

 

Molly shook her head. “Tom, you look as though you’ve seen a ghost…So please don’t…Don’t lie to me.” Her blue eyes rose to lock with his, daring him to deny it. To deny what they both knew was true.

 

“Mols, please…You know me…You know I would never…” The ease in which the lies poured from his lips sickened him. But he hadn’t been thinking; panic driving his words, his actions. He couldn’t lose her. Not now. But it was no use and he’d known it. Molly knew the truth, knew what he had done, and nothing he could say or do now would be able to change it. 

 

“No, Tom, I don’t.” There was a sadness to her voice that nearly shattered his heart. “Not anymore…A week ago, I would have never, ever believed you would do this…But now…” her voice trailed off and she swallowed thickly before raising her gaze to his once again. With a slow and deliberate care, she twisted the ring, his ring, from her finger. “Take the test, Tom. Sort out your life.”

 

She offered him a soft smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes before pushing herself to her feet and placing the still warm ring into his hand. She took a deep breath and, gathering her suitcases, walked quietly out of the front door.

 

The door closed behind her with definite click that Tom felt in his bones. She was gone. He couldn’t process it, couldn’t allow himself to accept it.

 

He wasn’t sure how long he stood in the center of the living room, staring with a waning hope at the closed front door. Molly was gone. He’d been stupid and selfish and now it had all come back on him ten-fold. His eyes burned but the tears he knew were there refused to come. He took a shuddering breath and rubbed his hand over his mouth, trying to calm his racing thoughts and his thudding heart. He needed to change, needed to call Luke. Needed to do something other than simply stand there and watch his life crash and burn.

 

Tom climbed the stairs slowly, his mind set on showering, hoping that the hot water would help him gather his thoughts. Help him figure out what the fuck he was going to do. The bedroom door was ajar and the room within unnaturally quiet and dark. He flipped on the light switch and stood staring at the chaos before him; the closet and dresser drawers pulled open, their contents having been quickly removed, the bedding crumpled. Molly had been a stickler about making the bed and making sure the room was tidy. She’d told him off more than once for the mess he’d always seemed to make of their room, and wouldn’t let him rest until he’d set it right. Seeing the room now in such disarray was jarring.

 

He took a deep breath and shook his head to clear his thoughts, wandering from the bedroom into the ensuite bathroom, pulling his shirt over his head. He froze mid movement, his shirt slipping from his hands and onto the floor, as his eyes landed on a small piece of elongated plastic laying on the counter beside a soft yellow envelope. His blood pounded in his ears as he took two shaky steps to the counter, his fingers clumsily picking both items up.

 

Wordlessly, he turned the test over in his hands. Its display screen read ‘ _PREGNANT_ ’ in bold, black letters. He blinked in confusion, hands shaking harder. He wasn’t conscious of moving back into the bedroom, of falling unceremoniously onto the bed. He dropped the test beside him on the light blue coverlet and turned his attention back towards the yellow envelope. It took several tries to break the seal. And when he did he slowly pulled the card inside out, staring at it in stunned disbelief. The bright green, handwritten lettering across its front seemed to taunt him. ‘ _Congratulations, Daddy! We’re going to have a baby!_ ’

 

A strangled sob fell from Tom’s lips as the card tumbled from his numb fingers and onto the floor.


	3. PART THREE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I thought this story was over when I had posted part two. It was an abrupt ending, yes, but it fit. 
> 
> And then Molly decided there was more that needed to be said and here we are. This story is now complete....The journey Tom and Molly go on, however, most likely is not. There is too much more to explore for me to say I won’t ever come back to these two. But this particular part of their story has come to a close. I hope you all enjoy. 
> 
> Thank you again to @nonsensicalobsessions, @redfoxwritesstuff and @ciaodarknessmyheart for being sounding boards for this last part of the story. Your help has been so so valuable and I doubt this story would be as good as I feel it is without your help. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

“What the fucking _hell_ were you thinking?!” Luke’s voice rose three octaves as he yelled at the pale, drawn man sitting before him. There was a fire in Luke’s eyes that Tom hadn’t seen and, gods above, he knew he deserved it. Every last bit of it.

 

It had been nearly three days since he’d come home and watched the life he’d left behind shatter beyond repair before him. Nearly three days since he’d seen the broken, angry, disbelieving pain swim in Molly’s eyes. Three days since she’d left and he’d learned he’d been a father. Twice now, if that stupid fucking letter was to be believed. God, it was a mess. A complete and utter travesty and there was nothing he could think of to do; no way he could fathom to fix the utter mess he had made of everything.

 

Luke had found him sitting on the edge of his bed, head in his hands, almost an hour before. Tom had barely moved since Molly had stormed out; forcing himself to use the bathroom when need became too great, but hardly sleeping (when he had, he woke in a panic searching for Molly only to remember she was gone) and barely eating. He’d known time had passed, but honestly hadn’t been at all aware of just how much. His phone had rung incessantly for what felt like hours and after the dozenth time he’d looked and found Luke’s number instead of Molly’s, he’d thrown the infernal thing across the room, not caring if it broke. And frankly he had enjoyed the thud it made as the bloody thing collided with the wall.

 

But Luke was not one to be ignored and had Tom been in his right mind, he wouldn’t have been surprised when Luke had finally shown up to say whatever he’d had to say in person. He’d come storming in the house, cursing and yelling for Tom to “show his goddamned idiotic face and show it now.” Tom could remember hearing the thunder of Luke’s feet on the stairs and then the intake of breath as he came down the hall and stopped in the doorway.

 

Tom raised his head, blinking as Luke’s reddened face came into clear focus. Luke paused for barely a moment before charging in the room, brandishing a manila folder in his right hand. He paused and flipped the damned thing open, throwing their contents at Tom, who watched absently as they fell to the floor at his feet. A letter, he noted, much like the one Molly had been holding when he’d walked in the door and lost everything. And several print outs of what looked to be online articles. He blinked down at them and then up at Luke.

 

“Do you have _any_ idea the kind of madness I’ve been dealing with for the past 72 hours?! You go off the fucking radar, don’t answer your goddamned phone, and this insanity is spreading like wildfire. Are you aware that she went to the press? That’s she’s told everyone?!”

 

Once again Tom blinked in confusion.

 

Molly? Molly had gone to the press and told them what he’d done? The thought froze his heart. He couldn’t believe she would do something like that. He’d known he’d hurt her…That he’d broken what they had, but for her to run off and tell the world? That wasn’t his Molly. That wasn’t the woman he’d known, he’d loved. Who’d loved him. “Molly…She couldn’t…She wouldn’t…” His voice cracked as he spoke the words, both from disuse and disbelief.

 

It was Luke’s turn to blink in bewilderment.

 

“Molly? Why would Molly…?” He shook his head. “No, she hasn’t answered any of my calls either….I’m talking about Heather James. You know, the woman you fucked in a club bathroom in LA two years back? She’s gone to the fucking press with not only your affair, which paints you in an absolutely terrific light seeing as your relationship with Molly was public knowledge at the fucking time, but the fact that you have a son by her! Jesus **_Christ_** , Tom, this is a fucking shit show.” He paused running a hand through his short, brown hair. “I’m barely managing to keep up with all of it. And with your engagement announcement two months back…This is bad. Very, very, **_VERY_** bad.”

 

Tom found himself nodding but not truly comprehending the words Luke spoke. It all seemed so surreal, like a horrid nightmare, and all he wanted was to wake from it and find that none of it had actually happened. To find Molly beside him, holding him and telling him she loved him. It couldn’t be real. This couldn’t be happening.

 

“…Are you even fucking _listening_ to me, Tom?”

 

He slowly raised his head and met Luke’s gaze. Tom watched the exasperation and annoyance play across his publicist’s face as it became abundantly clear he hadn’t truly been listening. “What?” he managed to choke out.

 

Luke bit back a groan. “I was saying you and Molly need to release a joint statement on the matter. You need to say something to counteract this shit storm that is raining down on you. And you both need to do it now. Ignoring it isn’t going to work, not this time.”

 

Tom shook his head, his eyes burning once more with tears. “She’s gone.” It was the first time he’d spoken the words aloud and they sounded strange to his ears. Like they couldn’t be the truth. “She left.”

 

“When you say _left_ …” Luke let the words trail off but Tom could hear the steel in them. It was clear he had a very good idea just what Tom had meant. And it was just as clear that he intended for Tom to say it aloud.

 

Tom cleared his throat, unsure just how to put this whole mess into words. “She…She had the letter when I got home,” he paused, working to clear his throat as the words threatened to choke him. “ She…She’d read it and asked me to tell her it wasn’t true…And I…I didn’t know what to do…I didn’t mean to…”

 

Luke blinked. “But she knew about the affair. You told her…” He trailed off, staring at Tom in enraged disbelief as understanding dawned. “You fucking didn’t tell her about it did you?” Fire burned in Luke’s eyes and he threw his hands up in frustrated incredulity. “You stupid, selfish, moronic _fucking_ coward! You didn’t bloody _ever_ tell her and she was blindsided by…Oh my fucking GOD Thomas, I am going to murder you!”

 

“I didn’t think…” Tom pleaded.

 

“No, you didn’t fucking think at _all_ did you?” Luke ran a trembling hand through his hair, shaking his head in frustrating disbelief. “She had no idea about any of this…Dammit all Thomas, I _thought_ you had fucking told her. I _begged_ you to tell her. Why the fucking _hell_ didn’t you?” Luke’s dark eyes locked on his own and the guilt and regret burned inside him.

 

“Because I didn’t want to lose her,” Tom snapped, glaring up at Luke. It didn’t matter that everything Luke said made sense. He should have told her straight off. He should have been honest. But he hadn’t and it had cost him _everything_. “I fucked up, Luke. Is that what you want to bloody hear?! _I_. _Fucked_. _Up_. I was a coward. A fucking spineless coward and now she’s **_gone_**! She’s having my baby and she left me because I fucked it all up!”

 

Luke’s mouth, which had been open ready to fire a snarky retort, slammed shut. He blinked at Tom for several minutes in apparent incomprehension before gathering himself enough to choke out, “Molly’s pregnant…”

 

Tom swallowed thickly and nodded.

 

Luke threw his hands in the air. “Fucking _hell_ , Tom.” He paced feverishly around the room, muttering to himself and occasionally shooting daggers in Tom’s direction.

 

The guilt that had been simmering merrily away for the last several days boiled over and Tom fought to control his breathing. This was bad. This was very, very bad and he felt as though everything had turned violently on its head.

 

“…she’ll talk to me.”

 

“All my fault,” Tom muttered over and over again to himself. Because it was all his fault. Every last miniscule bit of it. He’d made one stupid, cowardly choice after another and suddenly here he was having to answer for each and every one with no idea how the hell he was going to do so.

 

“It bloody **_is_** and don’t you dare expect me to sugar coat it for you,” Luke snapped. “You should have told her from the word go. You had so many fucking chances to say something and you fucking **_didn’t_**. If you had this would have been bad but we could have fucking managed it…Now, fuck, I have no idea which way this will go. And when the goddamned media finds out not only that Molly’s pregnant but she’s left you…”

 

“That’s not the point!” Tom hissed, pushing himself to his feet. He fought off a giddy wave of dizziness and nausea at the sudden movement. “I don’t give a flying fuck what those bastards print about me. You think I honestly care?”

 

“Honestly, Tom? I don’t know. The way you’ve been…It’s like I don’t know who you are anymore.”

 

The words stung far more than he’d expected them to, but it could not fault the truth in them. This person he’d become; this lying, secretive, dishonest man wearing his face wasn’t one he’d recognized. And that terrified him. “What am I going to do?” He hadn’t directed the question at Luke, but his friend answered him all the same.

 

“I’m going to head back to the office and try to contact Heather James’ solicitor and see if we can try to sort this mess.” He paused and let his eyes roll over the broken man who’d fallen back to sit on the edge of the bed once more. “You are going to march yourself into the shower, clean yourself up, and eat. After that we’ll have to play it by ear.”

 

—

 

Tom had showered, dressed in the first pieces of clothing his fingers touched, and settled at the wooden table in his kitchen, a plate of toast before him, when he heard his front door open and close followed by Luke’s footsteps in the hallway. “Back here,” he called out, half-heartedly.

 

He let his eyes raise to the doorway as Luke wandered in the kitchen, a sober expression painted on his face.

 

“I’ve been in contact with Ms. James’ solicitor and as their letter stated they are requesting a paternity test which we are not contesting. They wanted to discuss financial support for the child but until it’s proven that he is, indeed, yours that subject matter is off the table. As are any visitation and living arrangements. I’ve also requested that neither Ms. James nor any member of her team or her family speak with the press regarding this matter…Though I fear that ship as long since sailed.” He paused taking a deep breath before clasping his hands together before him. “Still better to try to curtail this now then try to fight whatever else gets spread across the papers.”

 

Silently, Tom nodded not quite taking it all in. He might have a son. _A son_. A little boy he’d never met. The idea was overwhelming. A father…He’d always wanted to be a father. Had always hoped that if the day came, he would have been able to be involved from the word go. To watch his child grow within the belly of its mother. Had hoped to be in a steady, committed relationship. Had always planned on it happening with Molly.

 

But he’d been a stupid, selfish idiot and ruined any chance he’d had. And now because of it he could so easily lose the chance to be there for Molly and the child she was carrying. Fresh tears stung at his eyes and he pushed the toast away, his appetite all but gone.

 

“…can get you into have the bloodwork drawn tomorrow morning. It shouldn’t take more than two to three days for the results and once we’ve got them we can figure out what comes next.”

 

Tom cleared his throat and raised his eyes towards Luke once more. “If…If he’s mine, I want to be there for him. I need to be there…This mess isn’t his fault and I won’t have him suffering for it, regardless of how all of this came about.”

 

A brief flash of pity mixed with a resigned understanding flashed in Luke’s eyes and he nodded. “I know, Tom. I know. If he’s yours I’ll help make sure you are as involved as you want to be.” He paused and cleared his throat, eyes darkening slightly. “I spoke with Molly…”

 

Tom’s head snapped up at this. “Is she alright? Please tell me she’s okay…I can’t…”

 

Luke threw his hands up, trying to halt Tom’s explosion of words. “She is about as alright as she can be, given the circumstances…She is understandably upset and angry…”

 

“Did she….Will she let me talk to her…Let me try to explain.” The naked hope in his eyes tore at Luke but he shook his head.

 

“I don’t think that is such a good idea. I think you’ve done enough damage for now. Just…Just let her be. There will be time enough to sort out the details of how you will both handle this.”

 

“But I can’t just…” Even if it was hopeless he _couldn’t_ just let it be. He had to try, he had to do _something._

 

“Yes you bloody fucking _can._ ” Luke snapped, hitting his fist against the table with enough force to rattle the forgotten plate of toast. “Do you not get it? Molly has every right in the world to wash her hands of you. To deny you the right to see the baby she’s carrying. Every. Bloody. Right. Fuck, she would be well within her rights to drag you through the courts and destroy you if you push her to it.”

 

Tom blinked in confusion, his heart thudding in his chest.

 

“This isn’t something you can smile and charm your way out of, Tom. You. Fucked. Up.” He empathized each word with the slam of his first to the table. “This isn’t going to simply blow over. Not only did you sleep with someone else, you _lied_ to her about it. And you kept right on lying. You fucked up every bloody time you had the chance to come clean with Molly and you _chose not to_. This isn’t one mistake, Tom. This isn’t one slip-up. This is a series of stupid, fucking decisions and they are all on you. _Every_. _Single_. _One_. And you need to own that and then figure out how to live with it.”

 

Luke took a deep breath and settled himself onto the chair opposite from Tom. Neither spoke for several minutes.

 

“How?” Tom’s voice was small, almost broken.

 

Luke took a deep breath, resting his hand on Tom’s shoulder. “You’ll have to figure that one out for yourself.” He turned towards the doorway, pausing momentarily to pull something from his pocket. “Almost forgot.” He placed it onto the table before Tom who looked at it in confusion. “Your mobile was in pieces…Again. And I have to be able to get hold of you. Try not to destroy this one.”

 

With a sigh Luke turned once more and headed down the hall and towards the front door. A moment later Tom heard it click shut and once more he was alone.

 

—

 

The car Luke had arranged arrived mid-morning the following day. Tom tried not to think about the parallel between this morning and one almost two years ago as he silently climbed into the backseat. He’d slept fitfully the previous night, tossing and turning for several hours before giving up the ghost entirely. It didn’t matter, he’d lost the right to sleep peacefully, and he’d known that.

 

He rested his head against the cool glass of the window as the city blurred past, paying it little mind. Luke had called shortly before the car had arrived to make sure he was up and ready. Tom wanted to resent Luke for doing so, for babying him, but given the mess he’d been (and honestly still was) he couldn’t bring himself to. Not when it was something Luke would have done before everything had fallen to pieces.

 

The car slowed and then finally came to a stop forty minutes later. He opened the car door and blinked up at the tall, dull, brick building. It was overcast, overhead rain clouds threatened. _Fitting_.

 

Climbing out, Tom made his way into the lobby of the building. It was well lit with several uncomfortable chrome and mutely coloured chairs lined near the wall of glass windows. Standing to the side of the main doors was Luke, absently staring at his mobile. He looked up at the sound of the doors and offered Tom a smile (which was honestly more of a grimace). In silence, they headed towards the lifts and then up towards the laboratory. Giving his blood and saliva samples was a simple matter; Tom and Luke were out of the building and back into the waiting car fifteen minutes later.

 

Neither man spoke as the car pulled off and merged back into the London late morning traffic. Luke turned his attention back to his mobile. He tapped away busily at the screen. Several minutes later Luke looked up, pocketing his mobile.  “I’ve let the solicitors know the samples were obtained and the results pending.”

 

Tom nodded. “Alright.”

 

What else could he possibly say? There weren’t words to describe the emotions coursing through him and he found himself both wishing that the little boy wasn’t his (how could he be a father to a child he didn’t know?) and that he was (if he was then maybe some good would come of all the mess he’d made). He didn’t dare voice either thought. How could he?

 

When the car stopped again it was in front of the offices for Prosper. Luke opened the door, looking back at the broken man staring sightlessly out of the opposite window. “Tom?”

 

Blinking Tom turned his attention from his thoughts and towards Luke. “Hm?”

 

“Call your mother. She’s called the office and my mobile several times trying to get hold of you. She’s worried sick.”

 

He nodded. The idea of talking to his mother, of hearing the disappointment and disapproval in her voice, terrified him. She loved Molly. Had been so incredibly happy when Tom told her of the engagement.

 

“That woman loves you, my boy, with all of her heart. You are so very lucky to have found her.” His mother’s words echoed in his mind, adding to the weight of the guilt and self-disgust he carried. She would kill him for this and he honestly couldn’t blame her. He’d had something amazing, something so fucking special, and he’d thrown it away. God, how could he have been such a fool?

 

What was worse was that by now his mother would have seen the articles, known what he’d done. And he knew he deserved every disappointed and disgusted word she would say to him. He was her son, yes, but she adored Molly and he’d broken her heart. But Luke had been right, avoiding his mother wouldn’t change what had happened and he knew, despite whatever anger and disappointment she felt towards him, she was worried. And despite the mess he’d made of everything, he couldn’t stand worrying his mother.

 

Tom barely noticed the car pulling to a stop and the driver had to call his name twice before he realized he was home. With a murmured thanks, Tom climbed out of the car and slowly up the steps towards his front door. The house felt so cold, so empty without Molly’s light and Tom fought back a sob as he pushed the door closed behind him and stood in the dim entry way.

 

Swallowing thickly, he stumbled his way into the lounge and dropped himself haphazardly onto the sofa. He sat, head cradled in his hands for what felt like hours before he took another deep breath and fumbled his new mobile from his pocket.

 

Clumsily, he dialed the familiar number, holding the phone to his ear as it rang once, twice before the line clicked. “Oh Thomas,” his mother’s worn voice answered. “My boy, what have you done?”

 

“Mum,” he breathed, the tears he’d fought finally breaking free. “Oh God, mum. I really messed up.”

 

—

 

Luke called early three days later letting him know the clinic had sent over the test results and that he was needed at Prosper as soon as he was able to go over them. Tom dressed with trepidation, his mind racing over just what fate awaited him. He’d been grateful Luke had sent a car, he didn’t think he could face driving or the chaos that public transport had become.

 

Since the tabloids had broken with the story of the affair and his illegitimate child, Tom found himself once more under a deluge of press attention. He’d been followed and hounded on his morning run (which he’d only restarted as a means to take his mind off of what was happening). Anytime he was spotted in public there was someone with a camera or yelling for his attention and comment on the story. He’d kept his head down as much as possible, knowing that if he snapped at them the way he longed to he would be making matters so much worse than they already were. And there was the fact that Luke would cheerfully beat him to death if he did anything to rock the boat on this.

 

The car was outside his gate at half past the hour and Tom quickly made his way out of the house and into its cool interior, mumbling a quiet hello to his driver. Traffic was lighter than he’d expected and they pulled to a stop in front of Prosper’s building in what felt like moments. Tom fought to contain the panic roiling inside of him as he made his way into the building and towards the lifts that would lead him to Luke’s office.

 

The low murmur of an office at work greeted him as the lift doors pinged open. Tom gave Nancy at reception a small smile as he headed down the hall towards Luke’s door. She’d been with Luke since he started the firm and they’d always gotten on well. She was just as no nonsense as Luke and, having worked in the industry for years, was an invaluable asset to the firm. Nancy nodded back and waved him on.

 

Luke’s door was ajar and Tom could hear his voice pouring out into the hallway. He paused at the door and knocked on its frame. Luke looked up, placing his hand over the mouthpiece of the phone in his hand and nodded Tom inside.

 

“Alright, I’ll get back to you about the interview…Alright. Take care.” Luke placed the phone back onto its cradle and turned his full attention on Tom who still stood awkwardly in the doorway. “Seriously mate, come in. I’m not going to bite.”

 

His jest pulled the tiniest twinge of a smile from Tom and he made his way inside, settling on the black leather chair across from Luke’s desk. They sat in silence for several moments before Tom spoke. “You called about the results?” He fought to keep his voice steady and even, though the extent of his nerves were clear in the way his foot bounced against the carpeted floor.

 

Luke nodded once. “They sent them over this morning.” He reached across the desk to hand Tom a sealed white envelope. Tom couldn’t hide the visible shake in his hand as he took the envelope. It took him several moments to still them enough to slip his finger beneath the seal and break it. With a deep breath and a mounting sense of foreboding, Tom pulled the sheets of paper from the envelope, unfolding them with care, before allowing his eyes to read over the stark black text.

 

His blood pounded in his ears and he had to read the words several times before the meaning became clear.

 

_Regarding the child Francis Henry James…No paternal match…_

 

No paternal match.

 

The boy wasn’t his.

 

The sharp sense of relief he felt at those words was dulled by a flash of disappointment that Tom couldn’t reconcile. This was a _good_ thing. Wasn’t it? Things would be easier this way. But still, for a brief moment, Tom found himself grieving the loss of a child that might have been his. Of a life that wouldn’t ever be.

 

Tom swallowed against the lump in his throat. In all the panic and worry of the last several days, he hadn’t truly stopped and thought about what all of this would mean if the child hadn’t been his. Stupidly, he’d been laboring under the belief that the boy was his son and no matter what had happened between himself and the boy’s mother, that little boy, Francis…Frank, was his and was an innocent in all of this. And Tom would do everything in his power to do right by him. He’d been, unconsciously, making plans about what room he’d need to change into a child’s bedroom for when the boy would stay with him. Along with the room that would serve as a nursery for his baby with Molly…But that was all in vain now.

 

“Do I need to be drafting a press release asking for privacy as you and your son get to know one another?” Luke’s voice broke through the tangle of confusion in Tom’s mind causing him to stare up blankly. His publicist sat perched on the edge of his desk, arms folded across his chest with a carefully constructed neutral, yet expectant, expression painted across his face.

 

It was several minutes before Tom found his voice. “No,” he choked out, coughing to clear his throat. “You don’t need…He’s not…I’m not his father.” He blinked back tears, wiping at his face in frustrated helplessness.

 

Without saying a word, Luke was at his side with a box of tissue. Tom reached out and took one, blowing his nose and fighting valiantly to get himself back under control. But try as he might, Tom couldn’t stop the way his shoulders shook nor the tears that were trailing down his face. He was grateful Luke wasn’t forcing him to talk because he honestly didn’t think he could find the words to explain what the fuck was happening in his head.

 

He couldn’t say just how long he sat in Luke’s office, mourning the loss of the only good thing that could come from this mess he’d made. All he knew for certain was his head ached and his eyes felt raw as he was ushered into the back of the car Luke called for him. He would have winced at the brightness of the afternoon sunlight on his face had he not been wearing a pair of dark sunshades which were thrust at him on his way out the door.

 

“The last thing we need right now are pictures of you in tears,” Luke has grumbled as he shut the door behind Tom.

 

The ride back to his home was a blur. He could remember bits and pieces of the journey but he still blinked in confusion when the car pulled to a stop at the gate. Tom stumbled from the back of the car, punching the gate code in with shaking hands, and then slowly up the steps towards his door. He dropped the keys twice before managing to unlock the door and push it open.

 

The house was silent and dark for all that the midday sunlight was pouring in through the curtains lining the sitting room windows. He hated it. Hated everything about it. Tom fell back against the door, hearing it click shut against the push of his weight, and sank to the floor. He rested his head against his bent knees and simply fought to breathe.

 

He hadn’t any idea how long he’d been sitting there, he was only now aware that the hallway was now painted in growing shadow. Blinking, Tom rubbed his eyes with the backs of his hands and slowly pushed himself to his feet. His back throbbed as he stood upright, attesting to the fact he must have been sitting for quite some time. He rubbed it absently as he made his way into the kitchen.

 

Pulling a glass from the cabinet, he carried it to the sink and filled it with cool water, downing it in three gulps. He filled the glass twice more before making his way into the living room and dropping himself onto the sofa. Everything he’d found himself clinging to, the faint glimmer of hope in the storm his life had fallen into, had been for nothing and once more he found himself floundering. How could he ever hope to fix any of this now?

 

—

 

The next few days crept past, Tom moving through the motions more than anything. He answered the phone when Luke or his mother called, insisting he was fine in a tone which fooled no one, least of all himself. He read scripts and tried to eat on a regular basis; though he failed more than succeeded in that front. Tom felt as though he was living underwater, he could see things happening around him, hear distant echoes but could not seem to reach out and actually be one with them. Not that he was truly trying over much.

 

Each time Luke called, Tom found himself asking if he’d heard anything from Molly. Desperate for something, anything to let him know she was alright. _How could this ever be alright?_ She hadn’t called him, not that he’d expected her to but still he’d hoped, and each time he tried her number it rang out as disconnected. Luke had brushed him off nearly every time, “This is your mess, mate, and I won’t get myself involved any more than I need to.”

 

“Just let me know if she’s okay. I just need to know that she’s alright.”

 

“Tom,” Luke breathed out in exasperation, “Don’t put me in this situation, I am asking as your friend. And as hers. Please, let it be.”

 

“I can’t, Luke. Not when things are like this. Not if there isn’t a chance I could try to make this right.”

 

“No, Tom.”

 

He couldn’t seem to let the idea go. The need to speak with Molly, to know that she was alright. To try all he could do to fix the mess he’d made. And maybe, just maybe now that he knew for certain that the boy wasn’t his…Maybe she would be able to forgive him. Maybe that could make this work. Maybe they could be a family. Maybe…

 

—

 

Tom hadn’t let himself think as he made his way down the brightly lit hallway. Hadn’t acknowledged anything more than the blaze of hope that sparked in him when Molly had finally agreed to meet with him. It had taken nearly two weeks to get her to take his call, let alone speak with him, and even then he knew it was with extreme reluctance.

 

Luke had played middleman begrudgingly and made it perfectly clear though he was paid to look after Tom’s interests, he was firmly on Molly’s side in this. “Keep your head, Tom,” Luke had cautioned him as he handed over the folded piece of paper on which he’d written Molly’s current number. “She is giving you the chance to talk, don’t fuck this up. And please, for the love of god, don’t make this worse.”

 

He meticulously scanned each of the numbers on the doors until he’d come to Molly’s, trying to ignore the nerves fluttering steadily in his gut. Molly, he’d learned, had initially been staying at a friend’s while she searched for more permanent arrangements and had moved into her own flat the week before. The flat wasn’t too far from the house they’d shared, Tom had stared at the address she’d given him in disbelief. So close. She’d been so close and he’d not been any the wiser. The knowledge of it stung far more than he’d wanted to admit. But she’d agreed to meet with him. To talk. That had to mean something, didn’t it?

 

Taking a deep breath he raised his hand and knocked gently on the door. He rocked on his heels, shoving his hands firmly into his pockets to stop their fidgeting. He always seemed to fidget when he was nervous. He could hear a rustling from inside and the click of the lock unlatching. His heart stuttered and froze in his chest as the door opened and he found Molly standing before him.

 

He could see the toll of the last few weeks painted across her features. There were shadows under her light blue eyes and a wariness in them, and in her posture, he didn’t quite understand. She was clearly exhausted and it took all he had to keep himself from sweeping in and trying to fix things, as every fiber in his being wanted him to. She merely nodded at him, standing firmly in the doorway.

 

“How are you?” The question slipped from his lips without his bidding and Tom wanted to kick himself for it. “I’m sorry that was…I didn’t mean…”

 

“Just don’t, Tom,” she whispered. “Please don’t.”

 

Tom felt his heart constrict in his chest at the pain he could see in Molly’s eyes, no matter how desperately she tried to hide it. He was the worst sort of person and he knew it. But maybe…Just maybe if she let him talk, let him explain, this might be a way to begin to rebuild the shattered trust between them.

 

 _Please. Please_.

 

Several silent moments passed between them before Molly stood aside and allowed him to walk past her into the flat. He found his eyes scanning the small, but cozy, looking front room. There wasn’t a great deal in the way of furniture; a squashy grey sofa and matching arm chair, darkly stained coffee and end tables, and a wooden and metal bookshelf still mostly empty. Boxes lined the far left hand wall, stacked neatly with the top-most open.

 

Molly settled herself on the armchair, crossing her arms loosely across her chest. Tom quietly did the same on the sofa. Neither spoke, the silence between them growing more strained by the moment. He heard rather than saw Molly take a deep breath and quickly raised his eyes to her face. “You wanted to talk, Tom.”

 

Tom clenched and unclenched his hands in his lap. He could feel her cool eyes locked on him. It was now or never. He swallowed thickly before speaking, knowing he had to get the words out. Had to make her understand. The worst was over now. They could try to rebuild. It wouldn’t be easy, he knew that, but it would be worth it. They could do this.

 

“I…We got the results back. Of the paternity test. The child he…He isn’t mine.” The words came out in a rush and hope burned brightly in his eyes as Tom stared into Molly’s. It was going to be alright, it had to be. He’d been given a second chance. They both had. Surely, she could see that.

 

He waited, watching the emotion play across her face. Waited for the confusion to break into a quiet joy. For her to understand that it was over and that they could make this work. They could truly be a family. And he would make all of this up to her. He would make it right. This was his chance to do so.

 

“Oh.” The word tumbled from her lips. “I’m glad it’s settled for you then.” But she didn’t smile. No sign of relief spread across her features. Nothing had changed…

 

“Oh,” Tom echoed and felt his heart sink. “But I thought…”

 

“You thought what, Tom?” Molly’s sharp tone cut straight through him and he flinched at her words. “You thought that just because her paternity claim was false that everything would be fine? You _lied_ to me Tom. You slept with someone else and then lied to me about it. You got a fucking STI and you kept that from me. You took what we had and threw it in the fire and you think that just because you dodged _this_ particular bullet I should be grateful and forgive you?” Frustration and disbelief shone in her bright eyes. “I’m sorry Tom, but that is not how it works. That is not how _any_ of this fucking works.”

 

“It was a mistake,” he started, needing her to listen to him. To give him a chance to fix it.

 

“No, Tom,” Molly snapped out, pushing herself to her feet. She paced around the room, hands waving as she carried on. “A mistake is getting the reservation times mixed up. A mistake is forgetting to call after you’ve made it home safe. Sleeping with someone else and lying about it for two years…That…That is _not_ a fucking mistake and don’t you dare try to pass it off as such.”

 

He stood as well, staring at her as the words she’d thrown at him hit home. “I...Molly, please, tell me how to fix this,” he pleaded, unconsciously reaching out toward her. “Tell me what I need to do and I’ll do it. Anything. Anything at all. Just please, please let me fix this.” He took two cautious steps towards her.

 

Molly shook her head, taking several steps back from him. “You don’t get it, Tom. There is no _fixing_ this.” She crossed her arms in front of her chest and locked her eyes on his. “That time came and went two _fucking_ years ago. You _lied_ to me. Again and again and again. You made the life I thought we were building together into a nothing more than a mockery of what it should have been. You can’t fix this, Thomas. Not now.”

 

“Please don’t say that, Molly,” he begged, fear choking his voice. This wasn’t how this was supposed to happen. This couldn’t be happening. He had to fix this. He _had_ to. “Please don’t. I can’t…I have to fix this. Please.”

 

Molly shook her head. “No, Tom. There is no fixing this.”

 

“But the baby…” His words trailed off as his eyes lingered on her distant form. Her baby. _Their_ baby. This baby needed them both. They had to fix this. _He_ had to fix this.

 

Molly’s hands unconsciously dropped to her stomach, cupping now barely visible swell there. He doubted he would have even seen it had she not done so. “Don’t, Tom,” She whispered, taking a deep breath before continuing her voice stronger. “This baby is the only reason I am even speaking to you.” There was a fire in her eyes Tom had never seen and truth be told it terrified him. Anger was never an emotion he’d ever truly seen from Molly, not centered on him, and to see it now let loose a very real spasm of fear. “Don’t you dare try to use this baby to get your own damned way!”

 

Tom leapt to his feet, hands raised before him, and took a tentative step towards Molly. “That isn’t what I’m trying to do.” And it wasn’t…Not completely. He couldn’t let her shut him out. Not now. He needed to fix this before it was too late.

 

“I think you should leave, Tom.”

 

Her words didn’t make any sense. “No, please don’t…” He couldn’t leave now. If he left then he might never get another chance to fix this. And he had to fix it. He _had_ to.

 

Molly shook her head, walking with steadfast determination to the door. “I want you to leave right now. I can’t do this.”

 

“But…”

 

“Tom, please.”

 

He stood for several moments, indecision painted across his features before his shoulders slumped in defeat and he walked quietly to the door. Tom paused, his eyes roaming over Molly’s stoic face. He took a slow, deep breath and spoke quietly. “For what it’s worth, Molly, I am truly sorry.”

 

“That’s all well and good, Tom, but sorry doesn’t fix anything.”

 

Tom nodded, forcing the ghost of a smile as he felt the tears burning in his eyes. “I know.” _And god I wish it would_. Without another word he turned and walked out of the flat.

 

—

 

Luke’s call came almost an hour after Tom had made his way home. He thought, briefly, about simply letting the call go to voicemail; it would be infinitely easier than whatever Luke had to say. Instead he slid his finger across the screen and placed the call on speaker. “Yes, Luke?”

 

There was a resigned sigh before Luke’s voice echoed throughout the room. “Why can’t you listen to what I tell you? Just once, for the sheer novelty value of it.”

 

“I just…I wanted to fix it…”

 

Luke groaned. “Tom, you cannot fix this. Not now. The time to fix it was two damned _years_ ago. And if you’d just _told_ her like I all but begged you to…”

 

“I know, Luke,” Tom snapped, cutting the man off mid-sentence. “I _fucking_ know! You don’t need to tell me I fucked up the _best_ thing in my life because I’m a selfish bastard. I _know_ , Luke. I can’t ever forget it! I just…I had to try.” He fought to keep his words steady as the composure he’d struggled desperately to keep finally broke. Sobs wracked him and he found himself gasping for breath. It took several minutes to calm himself enough to speak clearly. “I just…I couldn’t not try.”

 

“Well your trying could make this much, much worse. You _have_ to know that,” Luke stressed and Tom could hear the strain in the man’s voice. “The press doesn’t know Molly is pregnant, and thank god for that, but it’s not something that can be hidden forever. Not with the way the press has been on what’s happened. And when it does come out, they are going to be brutal; not only to you but to her as well. You push her too far and she could wash her hands of you entirely. She could up and leave and keep the baby from you and fuck me, I don’t know if I could blame her.”

 

Tom felt the barely contained panic threatening to break loose once again. Molly leaving and keeping their baby from him. Both of them gone for good. His knees buckled and it took all he had to lower himself onto the floor lest they give out completely and he collapse. “She wouldn’t…Molly wouldn’t ever…”

 

“There was a time when she would have said the same thing about you and we both know how that turned out.” Luke let out a frustrated sigh. “Tom, speaking as your publicist, I’m asking…No, Tom, I’m telling you to leave her be. Don’t push. Don’t try to fix it. Just let me handle this. Please. Before it goes from bad to worse. Do you hear me?”

 

It was several moments before Tom realized that Luke could not see him nodding and croaked out his assent. Yes, he would leave her alone. He would let Luke sort this as best he could. The call ended soon after but Tom remained on the floor, his mind racing.

 

How had all of this spiraled so far out of control? How could he have let this happen? He knew better. He should have come clean to Molly when she had called him back that night; should have told her the truth and begged her forgiveness. But he hadn’t and now there was nothing he could do to fix the mess he’d made.

 

—

 

In the two weeks that followed, Tom did his best to keep to Luke’s request. He kept his head down as best he could, kept mostly to his home and went through the small pile of scripts that had started to accumulate. Not that he could actually focus on them; he’d read the same passage three times in the last ten minutes and still couldn’t make hide nor hair of any of it. With a tired groan, Tom tossed the script aside, rubbing his bleary eyes with the palms of his hands. There was no point in trying to pretend he was going to get anywhere with them, not with the way his mind refused to focus.

 

Pushing himself to his feet, he padded from the living room towards the kitchen. Mindlessly, he set about making himself a mug of tea; loose leaf tea from the cabinet, water in the kettle and setting it to boil, jug of milk from the refrigerator, mug and strainer set aside waiting. There was something soothing about the whole process; it was something he had done thousands of times. It made him think of home and his mum and the times when all the world’s ails could be cured with a cuppa.

 

As the kettle boiled he set about measuring out the tea and placing it in the strainer atop the green chipped mug. A few minutes later had the kettle boiled, the water poured, and the fragrant leaves brewing. Once steeped he tossed the used tea leaves, added his milk, and carried the mug back into the living room. Tea might not fix everything, but with all that had happened, it certainly couldn’t hurt.

 

He settled back onto the couch and sipped while he debated picking up the script once more. It wasn’t the best story he’d ever read, but decent enough. Under normal circumstances, and had his head been clearer, he knew he’d been very much taken in by it. As it was though...

 

Tom let out a soft sigh, resting his mug atop his knee and rubbed his eyes with his free hand. He needed to get himself together. Falling apart wasn’t going to help anyone, least of all himself; he’d known that. But knowing didn’t make it any easier.

 

A muffled ring echoed from between the cushions of the sofa.

 

Perplexed, Tom sat staring for several long moments before his wits caught up with him. He leapt to his feet, placing his mug on the edge of the coffee table, and reached between the cushions where the ringing seemed be loudest. He grumbled as his fingers at first found nothing then just as quickly slid against the smooth metal back of his mobile. He yanked it out and slid his finger across the screen to answer, not bothering to look at the number. It was most likely his mother; she’d spent the past week trying to encourage him to come home for a few days to “get away”. He knew she worried over him and with all the goings on, her mothering instinct had gone into overdrive.

 

“Hello?”

 

Luke’s voice echoed through the mobile’s speaker. “Tom, is this a good time?”

 

While there wasn’t anything off about Luke’s question, there was something in the tone of it that set off alarm bells in Tom’s mind. Panic, potent and strong flooded through. He could hear the blood pounding in his ears as he fought for control of his voice. Something was wrong. Molly’s face flashed before his eyes.

 

_Let her be okay. Let her and the baby be okay. Please. **Please**. _

 

“Luke, what is it? What’s happened?” He knew his voice was shaking, knew all his bloody training was less than worthless now, and there was little he could do to stop it.

 

There was a soft sigh and a pause before Luke answered. “I’m about five minutes from yours and I have something we need to talk about.”

 

He managed to grunt something, he couldn’t say exactly what, in response and only half heard Luke’s answer before the call ended. He stared at the now blank screen as he collapsed back onto the sofa. His hands shook and he felt the mobile slip from his fingers to land on the rug below with a soft thump.

 

It took several minutes for Tom to register that the buzzing he was hearing was coming from the doorbell and not his head. It took another few moments to get to his feet and stumble towards the door. His fingers felt large, clumsy, and useless as he struggled with the lock. It took two tries to get it undone and to pull the darkly stained wooden door open.

 

Luke stood in the doorway, an unreadable expression painted across his face. He pulled his sunglasses off as he stepped inside and offered Tom a small, half-hearted smile which did little to put him at ease. They both stood in the entryway, silence spreading between them. There were so many things Tom wanted to ask but the words simply wouldn’t come.

 

“I think we should probably sit down for this,” Luke suggested, putting a hand on Tom’s shoulder and guiding him towards the living room.

 

Tom felt his heart plummet at Luke’s words and stumbled into the living room, collapsing onto the sofa. Luke settled in the arm-chair adjacent, his hands clasped tightly in his lap. Clearing his throat, Tom forced himself to raise his eyes towards Luke and choked out. “What is it?”

 

Luke faltered for a moment before answering. He leant forward, pausing briefly to pull an envelope from his jacket pocket. “Over the last week and a half I’ve been in talks with a solicitor.” He paused once again and handed the envelope to Tom. His brow furrowing in confusion, Tom held the envelope in his hand staring from it to Luke. What could Heather possibly want now? Hadn’t she done enough?

 

“Molly’s solicitor.”

 

Tom’s head snapped up at this, his eyes widening as the colour drained slowly from his face. “Wh-what?”

 

“She had them contact me shortly after…Anyway, with all things being equal and with all that’s been happening, she wanted to get things in writing, as clearly as she could, before all of this gets out in the public. Because it will, Tom, whether you or I or Molly want it to or not.”

 

It was as if Luke was speaking from someplace far off, his voice was muffled and try as he might Tom could barely make sense of any of it. His fingers shook as he turned the off-white envelope over in his hands, only partially registering his name written across its front, and tore open its seal.

 

The paper inside was of surprisingly good quality; a creamy white which was a strong contrast to the crisp black of the text. The printed words seemed to blur as he struggled to make sense of them. His breath came in short, pained gasps as slowly, agonizingly their meaning became clear.

 

She wasn’t contesting his paternity and welcomed him to a paternity test if he so wished; if he wanted to be involved in the life of their child she would not deny him. But that was as far as she was prepared to go. He wasn’t allowed to contact her in any way unless in pertained to the child. She would share important doctor’s visits and any and all test results if requested. His presence at the birth would be up for discussion as the time drew closer though she did not want him alone with her in the room.

 

A choked sob fell from his lips as the paper slipped from his numb fingers to the floor. Tom couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. God this wasn’t happening. Please, god, this couldn’t be happening. He jumped at the feel of a hand resting on his shoulder and blinked up through tears he hadn’t realized he’d shed at Luke’s impassive face.

 

“Deep breath, mate. Just breathe.”

 

Tom struggled to draw in air, his lungs burning with the effort. It felt as though he was simply fighting to keep his head above the surface of a crushing sea. And each time he thought maybe, just maybe, he’d caught his breath another wave would crest and he’d be dragged back under.

 

“Why?” He managed to choke out.

 

Luke let out a soft, resigned sigh. “Because she knew you wouldn’t listen any other way.” He gripped Tom’s shoulder lightly. “You push and you push and you don’t listen. She knows you, Tom. And she took the steps she felt were necessary to protect herself. All you can do now is respect that. Don’t push her on this. Please, if you listen to nothing else I ask of you listen to this, please respect her choice in this matter. Respect the boundaries she is setting. Don’t push her to take this further.”

 

Unable to speak, Tom simply nodded. He didn’t have it in him to fight anymore, no matter how loudly his mind screamed for him to do so. This was his fault. All of it. Molly hated him and if he pushed any further he wasn’t completely sure if she wouldn’t take away the only remaining tie left between them. And he couldn’t lose that. Not after everything. But knowing that and accepting it were two completely different things and at that moment Tom wasn’t sure if he would ever be able to make that leap. And if he didn’t, what would it cost him?


End file.
